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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031356">Percussive Maintenance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventusproximus/pseuds/ventusproximus'>ventusproximus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dialogue I Know by Heart [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Humor, M/M, Oral Fixation, Overlord being Overlord, Sadism, So much kissing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), genital piercings, possible dubcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:07:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventusproximus/pseuds/ventusproximus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"A brute like you could use the exercise in restraint.” </p><p>Overlord met him with a laugh. “Restraint? You don’t know the half of it."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Overlord/Tarn (Transformers)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dialogue I Know by Heart [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2228466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Percussive Maintenance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a self-indulgent one-shot of Tarn and Overlord during the war.<br/>I had no clue how to tag this, so let me know if anything needs to be added.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thought of anything coming between him and the rest of his division made Tarn’s chest plating uncomfortably tight. It was no wonder he was feeling that sensation now, as he currently had to welcome a Warrior Elite onto the <em> Peaceful Tyranny </em>. </p><p>There was absolutely nothing about this situation that felt right, least of all not the pale, ominous face smiling back at him. <em> It’s only a temporary assignment </em>, he told himself, fighting the urge to transform and back over his present company several times until nothing remained of his grin but a few of Tarn’s own skid marks. </p><p>“Welcome aboard, Overlord,” Tarn muttered, keeping the trembling of his voice in check. “While your addition to the Decepticon Justice Division is unexpected, we have full confidence in Megatron’s plans for this mission. Shall we go through introductions?” </p><p>“That won’t be necessary, Tarn,” Overlord said. Even the drawl of his voice raised the pressure in Tarn’s fuel lines. “I see little point in creating a facade of camaraderie between myself and your crew, especially since I have no intention of sticking around once we’ve completed this assignment. Your time would be better spent showing me to a room where we can discuss strategy.” </p><p>“He’s already proving to be a fine piece of hardware,” Helex groaned from behind Tarn. The leader raised a hand to silence him. </p><p>Overlord seemed intent on continuing his posturing, however. “That is, unless you want me to find alternative ways of entertaining myself on the long ride. Take that strange little pet of yours, for example. A sparkeater, is it?” </p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“Sparkeater, then. I could use it to paint the walls.” </p><p>Tarn could feel a growl of pure ire coming on. Off to the side, Kaon was shortening the Pet’s leash and holding it closer to him. “Let’s establish a few things, Overlord. I do not take kindly to the intimidation of my team. If getting down to business is the only way to prevent that, then so be it. Let’s talk.” </p><p>He hated it. He hated getting even an inch closer to Overlord. It almost came as a relief to dismiss the rest of the division—at least he knew they’d be out of the Elite’s path of destruction for a little while. It was really too bad that he found himself blowing a gasket sacrificing their momentary safety for his. </p><p>“Come this way,” Tarn said, marching right into the meeting room. Overlord lumbered after him, casting a long shadow over his temporary teammate. </p><p>They sat at the large, round table in its center, one mech across from the other. Overlord wasted no time getting comfortable, Tarn noticed. He had one leg crossed over the other and was helping himself to an energon cube. How he managed to find one while escaping notice was anyone’s guess. The DJD leader chose to ignore it in favor of making this stint as painless as possible. </p><p>“Why don’t we reconcile?” Overlord said between bites. He had two prominent fangs, as if he weren’t imposing enough without them. “Tell me what Megatron told you about the mission we’re being sent on.”</p><p>“Megatron told us—told me—precious little about this operation, other than that it will require a great deal of paperwork once we’ve arrived at the installation. We were given the coordinates to get there, then sent on our way to rendezvous with you.” </p><p>“Your faith in our leader is charmingly obtuse, Tarn. What use would he have for <em> me </em> at a so-called installation if the only purpose at which is to make sure it’s up to code?” </p><p>“I’m sure he has his reasons,” Tarn retorted. “Maybe he wanted to see how you’d fare following orders that involve something <em> other </em>than senselessly tearing head modules off. A brute like you could use the exercise in restraint.” </p><p>Overlord met him with a laugh. “Restraint? You don’t know the half of it. Restraint is what I practice when I avoid snapping your neck, repeating the process with the rest of your lackeys, and flying back to Megatron’s office to drop you on his doorstep. But since neither of us—” </p><p>“<em>Traitor.”  </em></p><p>Overlord stopped chewing, optics wide with bewilderment. All of his attention was firmly on Tarn’s every move. </p><p>“That’s what you are, isn’t it?” Tarn continued, snarling. He spoke as if he could take each word and curl them around Overlord’s throat until he choked. Luckily for him, he could come incredibly close, and planned to. “I can abide by your sick brand of banter, but I can only take so much…” </p><p>“<em>Hrrk!”  </em></p><p>Tarn rose from his chair and sauntered around the edge of the table, stopping just one seat away from Overlord’s recoiling form. “What’s the matter? Energon went down the wrong pipe?” He shoved the mech with the edge of his fusion cannon, and as expected, the Elite didn’t budge. All he could do now was sputter and gape at his new associate. </p><p>“Really, I should kill you for slandering Megatron. But regardless of how necessary your cooperation is to this mission, I’m sure he’d still want you back intact. Just promise you’ll play nice with everyone and we can continue our chat on friendly terms.” </p><p>Since Overlord was still struggling to regain composure, Tarn decided to help himself to the half-eaten energon cube. He hopped up to sit on the tabletop in front of the giant mech, and propped his feet up against Overlord’s chest with a less-than-gentle amount of force. He had to admit: he did like the way the warrior looked as a makeshift footstool. If he weren’t so adverse to leaving Overlord alone and unsupervised, he’d have gone to find a gag for him. Something to show off those teeth without putting his own aft at risk.</p><p>“By all means, take your time,” Tarn said, pushing his mask up to take a bite. He eased up the venom in his voice, in case Overlord’s vocal processor was truly paralyzed. </p><p>The Elite had finally managed to rasp a few words by the time Tarn finished eating. It wasn’t anything substantive, just him repeating “Tarn, Tarn…” with a tone that was halfway between pleading and murderous. The leader was enjoying it well enough; <em> savoring </em>it, even. Out of nowhere, he received a ping. </p><p><em> “How’s the strategizing going? Estimates say we’ll be at our target in only a few hours,” </em>said Vos, in his usual Old Cybertronian. </p><p>
  <em> “Going just fine. Call me back when we’re ten minutes away. And tell Kaon he might want to kennel the Pet for this one.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I can try. Over and out.”  </em>
</p><p>“Sorry about that, Overlord, I didn’t mean to interrupt your—<em> ack! </em>” </p><p>Tarn’s legs were being yanked upward by his ankles. In a few fluid movements, Overlord had stood up and was now dangling the DJD leader upside-down. Or he was, until he decided to fling Tarn across the room and into the bulkhead. </p><p>“All’s forgiven,” Overlord crooned, slowly lumbering over to where Tarn lay prone. “As for playing nice, I promise to be every bit as cordial as you have been to me.” </p><p>Fuel was rushing through Tarn’s systems so quickly that his fans had to kick in to compensate. He was fully aware of the Elite’s hands on him. His limbs were being pulled with just enough pressure to keep them attached to his body, but more than enough to make it hurt. It was a sensation that reminded him of all the times his idol had spent conditioning him. One of the many sensations that sent surges through him after all this time.</p><p>“Keep touching me and I’ll shoot,” Tarn hissed. </p><p>As if Overlord could anticipate his next move, the warrior delivered a haymaker where his vocal processor laid beneath his chassis. The pain rattled him for the moment, but could get things back under control if he focused. </p><p>
  <em> Come on, focus. Your team dies if you don’t rein in this maniac.  </em>
</p><p>“Here,” Overlord said, wrenching Tarn’s arm up so the barrel of his cannon was flush against his chest. He was dangerously close to warping Tarn’s hand. “Shoot me.” The angle could not have been less ideal for the leader, and they both knew it. It was in the curve of Overlord’s lips.</p><p>By Primus, did Tarn try. He tried, and every time he nearly got a shot off, Overlord gave his arm a deft little twist and sent the beam flying sideways. The room was going to need considerable repairs, but right now he needed the distraction more. While the Elite toyed with him he steadied his venting, conjured up an image of Megatron’s stern visage in his mind… </p><p>And loaded his vocal processor with all the bitter jealousy he could muster. <em> “Enough </em>—” Tarn boomed. </p><p>Or so he’d hoped. A vicious heat was rushing over his entire body, threatening to disturb his charge. Every ounce of Overlord’s weight was bearing down on him like the compactors he used to subject his prisoners to back at the Grindcore. That on its own was bad enough, nevermind the two pinpricks against his lips. When his systems recovered enough from the sudden wave of force, it finally dawned on him. His best attempt at saving himself and the mechs he called family had failed, and Overlord was kissing him. Foul, insubordinate, sadistic Overlord. </p><p>
  <em> Why?  </em>
</p><p>“Why?” Tarn blurted, once Overlord pulled back just far enough to comfortably make optic contact with him. His mask was in the other mech’s hands, then promptly thrown aside. </p><p>“You’re far more agreeable once you’ve been shut up. I’d even go so far as to say that I like having you for a plaything.” </p><p>Dumbstruck, Tarn resumed his struggle against Overlord’s grip. The futility of it granted him nothing but more laughter from the mech, and several finger-shaped dents in his chassis. “Don’t toy with me.” </p><p>“Don’t attempt to kill me,” Overlord snapped. His massive hands roved up to Tarn’s face and stopped to prod at his scars. The feeling of his fingers against the exposed nervecircuits was almost pleasant to Tarn, so much that he involuntarily leaned into the stroking. Without warning, the Elite curled his hands around the broken plating of Tarn’s face and began tugging at it. </p><p>Tarn jolted at the sudden roughness. “Stop that.” Killing Overlord for his uncouth behavior was officially out, but he wasn’t going to let him peel his face off. He was <em> not </em> a prisoner on his own ship. “Look, Overlord, I’m a reasonable mech. As a guest on the <em> Peaceful Tyranny </em>, you felt disrespected. I can sympathize with that, regardless of your history of… grave errors. In exchange for your cooperation, I’ll make no more attempts on your life.” </p><p>“Abysmal apology accepted.” </p><p>“Good. Now, back to more pressing matters: <em> get off me </em>.” </p><p>“I don’t think you’d want me to, Tarn.” </p><p>“And what is <em> that </em>supposed to mean, Overlord?” </p><p>He was poking at the edges of Tarn’s mouth, now. “Intimate acquaintanceships are good for morale, don’t you agree? That’s certainly the message that your embarrassingly soft crew sends. Furthermore, you look like you haven’t done any interfacing in over a million years.” </p><p>Now, dangerous mechs were nothing new to the DJD leader. Laying waste to Autobot and Decepticon lives alike was an ordinary afternoon’s work for him. Overlord, however, was a different breed entirely, just the right breed to make him seethe. It humiliated him how he was able to sit here and let a superwarrior crafted by Megatron himself brazenly insult him and his way of operating. So humiliating that he had the burning urge to transform, an urge that he couldn’t satisfy with a Warrior Elite pinning him to the floor. </p><p>A good interfacing, on the other hand… that was something he could use. Commanding his own ship and crew meant he’d had to do a lot of self-servicing as of late. </p><p>
  <em> Am I really going to confess my desperation to this tawdry heap of spare parts?  </em>
</p><p>“I’m sure you’d love to interface with someone <em> living </em>for once, Overlord. Think you can tolerate the anticipation long enough to make it to my personal quarters?” </p><p>Overlord all but rammed into him in an instant. They were chest-to-chest, but Tarn’s legs were splayed out at an awkward angle and his arm was still in a lock. “I can tolerate anything. The fact of the matter is that I don’t have to, because I can have you right here.” </p><p>“I expected you to have a little more class, but it’s the guest’s choice,” Tarn said. Thankfully, he still had one good hand to reciprocate with. He reached over to run his thumb across Overlord’s lip, at the risk of getting it bitten off.</p><p>Overlord grabbed Tarn’s hand and kissed his fingertips. “I reserve my ‘class’ for Megatron.” Before long, he’d begun biting, and broke a fuel line or two in the process. He refused when Tarn attempted to pull away and take a look at the punctures. “You know, Tarn. I think it would be prudent to establish a safe word. So I know when I’m in danger of compromising too many of your vital functions.” </p><p>“Fine. What’s it going to be?” </p><p>“‘I love you, Overlord, and every inch of my body belongs to you’.” </p><p>“That’s a sentence. And no.” </p><p>“But it suits you so well!” Overlord leaned forward to kiss Tarn’s cheek, then slid down to press himself against the smaller mech’s neck. </p><p>Tarn begrudgingly grabbed him by the antennae and pulled him closer. “I’ll agree if you get this over with. It’s not as if I’ll need to stoop to your level—” His voice went fully static once Overlord resumed his biting. He could feel and hear the snapping of yet more fuel lines and the sickeningly hot gush of his own energon. The Elite let out a muffled chuckle when he shivered. </p><p>“You speak too soon,” Overlord replied. He ghosted his wet lips over Tarn’s chassis. All the while, his arm was unwinding from Tarn’s and sliding down to make a grab for his interface panel. “Now, do you want to open this for me?” </p><p>Still distracted by the mix of sensations, Tarn squirmed. Did he want to interface? Obviously. But did he feel like baring himself to Overlord like his array was merely a plate of solid energon? Absolutely not. He took Overlord’s hand and laced their fingers together, though he could hardly muster the strength to guide the mech. “Do it for me.” </p><p>The Elite withdrew his head and looked down between Tarn’s legs. “As you wish,” he said. “Though, I may as well make things interesting if I’m going to be expending the effort.” Dispassionately, Overlord closed a hand around each of Tarn’s thighs and gave them a yank until his legs straddled either side of his own head. Most of the air in Tarn’s intake was knocked out by the sudden movement. His head and shoulders were flat on the floor and his interface array was inches away from Overlord’s lips now. </p><p>“Don’t—” </p><p>Overlord was doing it anyway. He closed his mouth around the edges of Tarn’s panel and was using his teeth to pry at it. It was terrifying how quickly he worked; in only a few seconds, the metal had shifted and come away with a neat <em> click. </em> It still hurt, by all means, and he’d have to explain the obvious bite marks later. However, the matter was far from his mind. </p><p>After all, how could he focus on his appearance when Overlord was licking his node? </p><p>“Don’t stop,” Tarn begged. “Don’t ever stop. I’ll kill you.” He couldn’t have sounded more pathetic if he tried. Judging by the torturously long kisses being pressed against the folds of his valve, he wouldn’t have to. He thrust his hips up into Overlord’s face and ground as roughly as he could in his current position. The other mech nipped at him for his boldness. </p><p>Tarn decided that, much like Overlord, he did prefer when his present company was silent. He liked him even more, though, when he was using his tongue to push inside rather than hurl insults. Nodes were being hit that Tarn wouldn’t have thought possible with just a tongue. Clenching his legs around the Elite’s neck, he prepared to overload. Or pop his head off, whichever he could manage to do first. </p><p>“Mm,” Overlord hummed, breaking away to meet Tarn’s optics. A string of lubricant was hanging from his parted lips. “Not yet.” </p><p>Tarn let out a growl and continued rolling his hips. He was too charged up to stop now, and he was going to make it Overlord’s problem. “<em> More! </em>” he snapped. </p><p>It was clear Overlord had other plans, however, as he tore Tarn’s legs away from his shoulders and set him down—but only after giving one of his thighs a bite hard enough to make him hiss in pain. The Elite gathered him up and flipped him to lie face down, then clamped a hand down around his neck. The wounds he’d already created were only being opened further by the force, and before long Tarn’s energon had begun pooling in a puddle beside him. All of Overlord’s force was being used to keep him pressed to the floor. </p><p>“I feel inclined to remind you, Tarn,” Overlord said, tugging at one of his tank turrets, “that the safe phrase is still in place.” When Tarn didn’t make a verbal response, he bent the turret closer to him and ran his tongue along its length. </p><p>“I’m fine.” The leader’s voice was failing and devolving into static once more. He tried to speak with both voices. “I’m fi—<em> ah </em> … I’m <em> fine </em>.” Tarn spread his legs as Overlord stroked his valve from behind. </p><p>“Good,” Overlord said simply. Tarn didn’t need to see to know that he was leaking transfluid all over his partner’s hand. He didn’t care, either. All he wanted was for Overlord to pick up the pace. When he heard the subtle click of an interface panel being removed, he knew he wouldn’t have to wait much longer. </p><p>Unless Overlord continued to toy with him, which he apparently hadn’t gotten bored of yet. He cupped Tarn’s chin in his hand and twisted his head until they could just barely make optic contact. Uncomfortable was an understatement; Tarn’s head module was smeared with a slurry of different fluids, he reckoned, and near to popping off. At least, he thought, Overlord sweetened the deal by kissing him on the mouth again. </p><p>“How badly do you want this?” Overlord murmured, squeezing Tarn’s jaw until it opened wide enough for his fingers to slip inside. </p><p>Tarn bit down with every bit of his waning strength. It would serve as his response, since he didn’t have the resolve for much else. Every impulse in his body was dying for his valve to be filled. Overlord didn’t react, naturally, and returned his attention to Tarn’s array. </p><p>“Wanting is one thing, my dear Tarn, but being able to withstand it is another thing entirely.” He slipped a finger deep into Tarn’s valve and bore down on one of his internal nodes. The DJD leader was seeing spots. “Even with all this lubricant, Megatron’s errand boy may still prove to be too tight a fit for me.” </p><p>“As if you care,” Tarn quavered. </p><p>“Ah, you’re right. I don’t.” Overlord let the subject drop there.</p><p> In a matter of seconds, he’d withdrawn his finger and replaced the void with his spike. If all the biting and rough handling hadn’t made Tarn’s chassis ache, this surely would. The Elite was stretching the edges of his valve to their limit and crushing against all of his nodes at once. Nothing but a string of incoherencies came out when he attempted to speak. At the very least, Overlord seemed to enjoy his pitiful moaning. </p><p>There was so little of Tarn left unfilled that Overlord had to grab the smaller mech and pull him further onto his own spike. Something rammed into Tarn’s ceiling node before their hips could even clang together, and for several seconds, he could see nothing but black. The violent whirring of his fans and the sound of his straining joints overtook the soft, continual growl of his vocal processor. </p><p>“You can feel it, can’t you? Megatron ordered these modifications himself. The rings—” he emphasized his point by hitting Tarn with an especially cruel thrust. “—do the job quite nicely.” </p><p>Spasms racked Tarn’s entire body, causing whatever parts of him that could still move to shiver. His metal plating felt as if it were being smelted down under the heat and pressure of Overlord’s grasp. Everything stung and everything hurt in a way that made him unable to do anything but drool lubricant. He could have held out for long enough if the Elite had kept this pace, but Overlord only seemed to become more and more eager. </p><p><em> He’s breaking me </em>. Tarn didn’t want it to be true.</p><p>“Urk,” Tarn coughed, choking on his own fluids. He could feel the blinding rush of an overload creeping into his systems. “Nn—No more.” He repeated the phrase over and over, until Overlord couldn’t help but laugh at him. </p><p>“We went over this,” the massive mech said, moving with so much friction that Tarn’s insides burned.</p><p>“I…” Tarn hated this so much that he could weep. The high of his overload was so good that he could weep over that, too. </p><p>“Hmm?” Overlord prompted. </p><p>“I love you.” </p><p>Overlord didn’t stop. “Touching.” </p><p>“…Overlord.” Tarn’s vocal processor was rattling in his chest as it attempted to comply. The creature speaking right now couldn’t have sounded more different from the mech who’d once been forged and designated as Damus. To make matters worse, he could barely remember the safe phrase. “And…” </p><p>“Here,” Overlord said, delivering a sharp slap to the side of Tarn’s head. His body veered sideways and for about three seconds after, he couldn’t hear anything from the right side of his audio processor. “Percussive maintenance. Jogs the memory.” </p><p>If Tarn hadn’t been weeping yet, he certainly was now. Coolant, or possibly something else entirely, was leaking down his cheek and into his scars.  “Every inch of me—no. E-every inch of my <em> body </em>… belongs to you.”  </p><p>The DJD leader could <em> feel </em>the awful, slag-eating grin engraved onto Overlord’s face. Regardless, the line worked, and the Elite pulled out, albeit with great difficulty. Tarn vented the deepest, most sweet-feeling venting of his life once he could no longer feel a spike inside him. Overlord took him by the neck again and sat him up against the bulkhead, where he could clearly see all of the transfluid and energon dripping out of his valve. </p><p>“What a sight you make,” said Overlord. His spike was still pressurized, slathered in pink liquid, and monstrously adorned with bars and rings from the base to the tip. Ununtrium, if Tarn had to guess. Not that he wanted to think about the modification process his liaison’s array underwent. He rubbed his sore, half-mangled neck. </p><p>“To say that I hate you,” Tarn panted, “would be a gross understatement. If you were torn apart right now, before my very optics, and each part of you were used as a footstool for a different high-ranking Autobot officer, I’d say you’d have gotten only a fraction of what you’d deserved.” Gradually, he was starting to feel like himself again, and not a sentient piece of scrap metal. “You didn’t overload.” </p><p>“Observant.” Overlord took his spike in one hand, gave it a brief, thoughtful glance, then smiled back at Tarn. “If you don’t mind…” He pressed the tip of it back against Tarn’s gaping valve, much to the smaller mech’s shock. </p><p>“<em>No </em>,” Tarn intoned. “Don’t you dare. I used your heinous safe words.” </p><p>“Relax. Have some trust in your new comrade.” Overlord didn’t withdraw, but ran his hand along the length of his spike as Tarn looked on. In a way, it was pleasing to see him self-service. </p><p>“There,” Overlord drawled, when he’d stroked himself to completion. He overloaded inside Tarn, adding to the sticky mess that they’d already created. </p><p>Tarn bit his lip to repress the groan rising in his intake. When he was sure it had passed, he leaned over and pecked Overlord’s energon-stained mouth. The Elite happily reciprocated, holding his head and pressing a thumb against each of his cheeks. </p><p>“It was good,” Tarn conceded dryly. “Still hate you.” </p><p>“I wouldn’t want our relationship any other way,” Overlord replied, unleashing a barrage of kisses and nibbles against Tarn’s jaw. </p><p>He decided to let the massive mech have his way with him for the time being. Now that he’d had what he could loosely describe as fun, he had to check in with Vos again. No doubt his silence would have been cause for concern among his beloved team. “Try and keep quiet for a few minutes, Overlord.” </p><p>Overlord said nothing, in favor of giving Tarn’s chest plating some new bite marks. </p><p>As expected, Vos answered his ping right away, and it was obvious that at least a few of the other members were crowded around him, trying to listen in. “<em> Sorry for the radio silence, all. What’s our ETA?”  </em></p><p>“<em>Not long now, </em> ” Vos chattered back. “<em>Twenty minutes at most. Everything go alright in there with our special guest? </em>” </p><p>The special guest in question was sucking energon straight from Tarn’s open wounds, but he supposed that was as ‘alright’ as things got for Overlord. He fondled one of the Elite’s antennae affectionately. “<em> We sorted things out. </em>” </p><p>“Boss, you’re gonna love this,” Tesarus said over the link. “Because we’re so close, we’ve managed to pinpoint what this assignment actually is, and it looks like it’s an Autobot MTO installation. You can probably guess why Megatron would want us here.” </p><p>“Lovely, and yes, I can. But we’re the <em> Justice </em>Division. Loathe as I am to question Megatron’s methods, he didn’t have to send us. Hell, Overlord himself probably could’ve gotten the job done if High Command did an especially poor job of guarding the place.” </p><p>It was Kaon’s turn to hog the line now, apparently. “Maybe some rogue Decepticons have been making deals with them in exchange for… I don’t know, amnesty? They’d be fools not to take some spare ‘Con parts.” </p><p><em> How exciting, </em> Tarn thought, as he absentmindedly petted Overlord’s head. “At any rate, we’ll figure things out when we get there. Perhaps our lord didn’t want to spoil the surprise. I’ll meet you all on the bridge in a half hour. Be sure to look your best.” Closing the link, he stared down at his ruined chassis. </p><p>“Get off me, you lug,” Tarn said. “We’ve got a date in thirty minutes and I’m not going to let my people see me like this, let alone the day-old Autobot scum we’re going to be clearing out.” </p><p>“A date? You move quickly with your relationships, Tarn,” Overlord retorted, rising and dragging the DJD leader up with him. </p><p>“Save it for when we’re in the washracks, which you’ll be escorting me to <em> right now </em>.” </p><p>“With utmost pleasure.” </p><p><em> Primus help me if any of them notice the bite marks</em>. </p>
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